Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark
by The Red Celt
Summary: Just in time for Halloween, Shepard has a campfire story for all you people out there. Complete with comments from the peanut gallery and a bad reaction from everybody's favorite krogan. Rated T for krogan zombies.


It was a dark and stormy night—

_Oh, for the love of god, Shepard._

_Shut up and let me tell the story!_

It was a dark and stormy night on an uncharted world in the Shrike Abyssal. Orvanar, Gardag, and Krull—

_KRULL!_

_Joker, shut the fuck up!_

_Sorry, Commander. Carry on_. _*snickers*_

Anyway, the three krogan were camping out in a cave that they'd found while waiting for their shuttle to come pick them up. They had sent out a call hours before, but hadn't heard anything but static since. Believing the transmission issues to be caused by the storm, they set up watches and hunkered down for the night around a camp fire.

Around midnight, they heard a rustling sound like strips of leather being rubbed together and the fire went out. After a few seconds of confused shouting, Orvanar started screaming—a sound of such brutal agony that it sent cold chills through his comrades. The tortured sounds ripping from the krogan's throat couldn't quite drown out the cracking and tearing sounds that were surely the source of his pain. The sounds grew quieter as Orvanar was dragged away before Gardag could get his flashlight out, the beam illuminating a pair of kicking feet and a trail of dark blood in the sand. They fired their shotguns into the darkness, but Orvanar was already gone.

_I have a shotgun, too, you know._

_Shhhh!_

Krull lit the fire again and the two of them stayed awake all night, their guns in hand, starting at every sound. As soon as the first light of dawn crept across the sky, they doused the fire and went off to investigate. The blood trail was wide and messy, coating the sparse grass around the mouth of the cave, but it began to thin out after a few yards. There were deep grooves in the sand from Orvanar's heels dragging across the ground, but that didn't last long—about fifty feet from the cave, the blood and drag marks abruptly stopped. Krull and Gardag cast about in every direction, hoping to pick up the trail again, but it was as though he'd vanished into thin air. Or been carried away. But anything that could carry off a krogan of Orvanar's size had to be massive, or so they thought.

They heard nothing from the shuttle for the rest of that long, chilly day and started to get worried. This was an uncivilized planet—there was breathable air and a little bit of local flora that had been tested non-toxic, but there was no other sapient life. Krull kept the comm link open all day, hoping for a response to their maydays, but were met with nothing but dead air.

That night, they found a small outcropping of rock that served nicely as a shelter and lit another camp fire. Neither of them wanted to admit that they were uneasy about sleeping here, so they set up watches again and tried to get some rest.

A few hours later, at midnight, the fire went out and a high-pitched screech cut through the air followed by the dry powdery sound of leather wings flapping, and this time it was Gardag whose screams rent the night. Krull was on his feet immediately and shone his flashlight in the direction of the shrieks. He couldn't make out much in the confusing tangle of limbs and wings, but what he did see made his blood run cold. A winged varren—only it wasn't really anything like that at all, but his mind refused to see it for what it really was. The more he tried to see it, with its exposed muscles and nerves like it had been turned inside out, the more his sanity rebelled against it. Its shape was all _wrong_, somehow, like it was a badly-done child's drawing brought to grotesque and revolting life. Krull froze, his finger motionless on the trigger and his eyes wide, as the monstrous creature carried Gardag into the night.

_Hey, Wrex, you okay?_

_I'm fine, whelp, leave me alone._

_You sure? You're looking a little pale—_

_I said I'm fine._

Krull huddled against the rocks with his flashlight the rest of the night, and as soon as the day dawned he packed up the remaining supplies and hurried to where the landing area should have been. It took longer than expected; he had to skirt around an evil-smelling swamp full of the twisted corpses of trees that stuck out of the murk like old bones. Night was falling as he closed in on the location, and he made sure he had plenty of heatsinks at the ready just in case he heard wings.

Finally, he arrived at the broad, flat plateau that overlooked a barren field of dead grass and dirt, dull and lifeless. The shuttle was there, just visible in the gathering gloom, and for a moment he allowed himself to hope . . . but then came the otherworldly shrieks and the rustling of wings. Krull sprinted to the shuttle like all the demons of hell were nipping at his heels, but skidded to a stop when the shuttle doors opened.

There, waiting for him in the shuttle, were Gardag, Orvanar, and their pilot. Only it wasn't them, not anymore—they were covered in blood, dark and tacky, and their eyes were gone. He knew they were looking at him, though; he could feel their cold, dead gaze through the empty sockets. They stumbled out onto the plateau, their fingers grasping at the air, searching for him, and as they closed in on him he could see their foreheads—instead of their thick plating, there were ragged holes full of congealed blood and what was left of their brains.

The skinless monstrosities closed in on him and the undead bodies of his crewmates held him down on the cold ground, ignoring Krull's harsh gasping screams of utter terror. The last thing that he saw before his mind broke was needle-like teeth, dripping with spit and blood and bits of flesh, prying off his frontal plate. As they buried their elongated snouts in the cavity left behind, the world went mercilessly black and Krull knew no more.

* * *

"Wrex?" Shepard said. She knelt on the floor a few paces away from him where he sat, his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth with wide eyes. "Wrex, it was just a story."

"I know," he said, but he didn't move from the corner.

"I think you broke him," Garrus said. He kept his mandibles clenched against the side of his face to keep from laughing. Seeing a fierce warrior like Wrex reduced to this wasn't a sight one got to see every day, and he intended to use this as blackmail later.

Wrex clutched his forehead and groaned. "Next time, Shepard, keep your stories to yourself. Okay?"


End file.
